


Ten Times As Much

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: AKA Jonah [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Babies, Balancing Parenting And School And Work, Best Friends, Canon Jewish Character, Discussions Of Prior Homophobic Language, Friendship, Gen, Infant Care, Living Arrangements, Parenthood, Reconciliation, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 04:25:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8087059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: No paintballs, for now.





	

Puck spends what feels like close to twenty-four hours lying. He lies about having homework to do, thankful that Kurt can’t contradict that. Puck guesses Kurt’s right, but he wants to go to bed, not stay up and do homework. He lies from the moment he and Joel get to McKinley the next day, too, telling teachers and anyone else who asks that Figgins gave him permission to bring Joel to class with him. Maybe if Figgins hears about it from enough different sources, he’ll think he really did give Puck permission, and then forgot about it. 

Still, by the time that the last bell rings, Puck feels relieved, and he and Joel—sleeping, because history puts _him_ to sleep, too—walk in the direction of Finn’s locker. Puck purposefully doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as he walks, because the school day is over and even if Figgins had said explicitly no Joel in classes, well, classes are over. 

Puck leans against the locker next to Finn’s and waits. Part of the reason he told Kurt he didn’t have homework was so he could lie about how much work he had before Tuesday, because Puck knows he and Finn need to _really_ talk. Puck figures after he sees the lawyer, which he’d forgotten about until he got to school, he’ll pick Joel up, and that’ll probably be as good of a time as any. The last thing he’ll want to do after that is read a history chapter or do a math worksheet. 

“I’m tired of lying,” Puck announces as Finn walks up. 

Finn kind of side-eyes Puck. “Lying about what?”

“Homework, Figgins,” Puck says. “I told so many people that I had permission for Joel to be here. You know I don’t actually like to lie.”

“You sure do it a lot, for somebody who doesn’t like it,” Finn says. 

Puck opens his mouth to retort, then closes it and shrugs. “I know we need to talk.” 

Finn returns the shrugs. “Yeah, probably. Doesn’t have to happen now.”

“Well, no, ‘cause I have to go meet with that lawyer,” Puck says. “But… maybe later?” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Finn says. “Don’t hurry on my account, you know?”

“Nah, I’m still being selfish,” Puck admits. “I feel like I need to.” 

Finn shrugs again. “Alright. Whenever, I guess.”

“You still good to take the little guy for the afternoon?” 

“Yeah. I like hanging out with Jonah.”

“I think he likes you, too,” Puck says, even if his determination is based solely on the fact that Joel seems to like lower voices. “There should be enough bottles and diapers still in this bag.” 

“Cool,” Finn says. “Rachel said she would come over and help again, too, so maybe I can actually get her to learn how to change a diaper.”

“If not, remember that you possess more knowledge than her,” Puck says as he hands Joel over. “Hopefully it won’t take forever at the lawyer, mostly ‘cause I figure the longer it takes the worse my chances are.” 

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Finn says, adjusting Joel up on his shoulder. 

“Yeah. Thanks. Bye, you two,” Puck says, then heads to the parking lot. The drive isn’t too far up 75, and he doesn’t have to wait too long in at the lawyer’s office. 

The lawyer asks a lot of questions, especially about Puck’s permanent file and Quinn’s pregnancy and where Puck’s living, but then he seems to relax. He tells Puck that there are no guarantees, of course, but that based on what Puck’s saying, he doesn’t think Puck’s mom has a serious case. There’s no neglect or abuse, which makes Puck grimace. He hopes his mom’s lawyer is as incompetent as he always wondered, because otherwise he could end up hearing people lie about him in court. 

On the drive back, Puck thinks about what he wants to say to Finn, and what answers he might give to the questions that Finn might ask. He doesn’t reach any firm conclusions by the time he reaches Finn’s, but he parks and heads up to knock on the door right away. Sitting in his truck like some kind of burglar casing the joint isn’t going to make his head any clearer. 

He knocks very quietly, in case Joel’s sleeping, then once slightly louder. Rachel answers the door, smiling widely at Puck. “Come on in!” Rachel says. “He’s not asleep.” 

“Diaper?” Puck guesses as he walks in.

“Maybe,” Rachel says. 

“Diaper?” Puck repeats louder as he sees Finn in the living room. 

“Yeah, hey,” Finn says. He has Joel on a changing mat on the floor, midway through a diaper change. 

“I’m shocked,” Puck says, putting his backpack down. “Lawyer says it looks pretty decent overall.” 

“Oh, I’m so glad!” Rachel says. “Noah, I know it’s been more than eight days, but I’m sure that Rabbi Dreyer would be happy to do the bris any day this week that you’d like, and he probably knows a mohel as well.” 

“Oh, yeah, I guess I could,” Puck says, suddenly feeling uneasy. “I thought maybe I’d just see if Carole or Burt would get a chicken and let me do a little party. Or, well, let’s be realistic. Kurt, not Burt.” 

“Kurt would probably _love_ to throw a party,” Rachel says, suddenly looking torn. “Oh, that’s such a good idea too, Noah.” 

“A Jewish baby party, huh? Cool,” Finn says. He finishes Joel’s diaper and wraps up the dirty one, handing Joel to Puck before disappearing into the kitchen to throw the diaper away. 

“What do you think?” Puck says as he holds Joel. “I think if you smile before the party, it’s a better party.” 

“Oh, Noah, he won’t smile for weeks,” Rachel says. “I asked my dads.” 

“Yeah, that’s what the papers from the hospital said, but they also said it could take fourteen days for the cord to fall off, and that happened _way_ sooner,” Puck says. 

“Oh,” Rachel says, looking uncertain. “Well, it has been a long time since I was a baby.” 

“It’d just be cool if he’d smile, I think,” Puck says. 

“Wait, you haven’t seen him smile yet?” Finn asks, coming back into the room. “He totally smiled earlier.”

“Not the gas-smile, like… like he’s about to laugh or something,” Puck says. 

“No, like a real one,” Finn insists. 

“Huh,” Puck says skeptically. “I mean, I guess…” he trails off. 

“What is it, Noah?” Rachel asks, but Puck shakes his head. 

“Nothing.” 

“For real, though!” Finn says. “I sneezed and it made him smile. He thought it was funny.”

“Yeah, okay,” Puck says. “Did your mom say if I could stay for dinner?” 

“Yeah, she figured you would. I think she wants to interrogate you about the lawyer,” Finn says. 

“Mostly he asked questions, so I don’t know if I can tell her much of anything,” Puck says. 

“I’ll have to go before dinner, but Noah, let me know if you want my dads to call Rabbi Dreyer!” Rachel says, and Puck nods. 

“Yeah, I’ll decide soon,” he tells her. 

“Walk me out, Finn?” Rachel says. 

“Sure.” Finn puts his hand on Rachel’s back and guides her towards the door. 

“They have to do special things,” Puck whispers to Joel once he’s sure they’re out of earshot. “It’s just you and me in here now. You want to show me how you smiled?” Joel stares back to Puck, one arm waving. “No? Yeah. I figured.” 

“Okay, Rachel’s gone home,” Finn says. “Now you can explain how the Jewish baby party works.”

“Usually it’s at the synagogue, and the rabbi says some stuff, and the mohel circumcises the baby, and then there’s a lot of food afterwards,” Puck says. 

“No offense, dude, but that sounds like the worst party ever.”

“I’ve only been to one, and it was pretty boring,” Puck admits. “That’s why I thought, you know. Just a party. Oh, uh.” He laughs. “It has to have kosher food.” 

“So none of those sausage star things my mom makes?” Finn asks. “But you love those.”

“I totally told Kurt I kept kosher,” Puck admits. “It was too good of a joke to pass up.” 

Finn laughs loudly. “Oh my god. And he believed it?”

“I asked him if he’d ever seen me eat a cheeseburger.” 

“You don’t like anything on your burger, though,” Finn says. “Did you tell him you keep mustard kosher, too?”

Puck laughs. “That’s why it was such a great question to ask him! He totally believed it.” 

“So what’s that like, living with Kurt? Is it weird?” Finn asks. 

“Yeah, I guess I figured Burt meant it more like… remember those books in fourth grade and fifth grade about settlers and stuff? How there were always people paying to rent a room? I thought it’d be like that, like I was a boarder or something. And instead it’s like kum-ba-ya and get this? They just _buy_ things. Like without thinking about the cost comparison.” 

“Burt makes pretty good bank, I guess,” Finn says. “So it’s good? You like it there?”

“I don’t know. I mean, yeah, it’s better than being around my mom. Everything’s changed really fast, is all,” Puck says. 

“Yeah. That’s gotta suck.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” Puck says. “About any of it.” 

“Yeah, well, that makes two of us,” Finn says. 

“Probably should wait until after dinner, and I know it’s not—it’s not enough, or all of it, or anything like that, but, shit, I am sorry,” Puck says. 

Finn shrugs. “Yeah. I know.”

“I didn’t tell you that.” 

“Yeah, but I know anyway.”

“I kinda had a plan. Plans keep changing, though,” Puck says with a sigh. 

“Tell me about it,” Finn says. “Want to go up to my room, play some Mario before dinner?”

“I see how it is,” Puck says as he stands up slowly. “You think you can beat me if I’m slightly handicapped by the addition of a baby into the equation.” 

“Only way to is to try!” Finn says. 

“I knew it.”

After ten or fifteen minutes of Mario, Finn offers to have them alternate who holds Joel while they play, which ends up being how they pass the time until Carole calls them down for dinner. Carole does ask Puck about the lawyer, but Puck doesn’t really know what to tell her. He goes through the questions that the lawyer asked, because he knows Carole knows most of the answers already. 

Puck volunteers to help with the dishes, even though he correctly predicts Carole telling them she’s got it this once. He fixes Joel’s next bottle and takes it upstairs with them, and they play Mario for ten more minutes before Puck realizes he has to be the one to initiate things. 

“I have no idea what answers I really have or what questions you have or if you even want me to answer anything, but you were the wronged party, as the lawyer would say, and I guess I want to see if I can get my best friend back. Not because of him,” Puck says, nodding at Joel, “‘cause that’s not it.” 

Finn shrugs, not looking at Puck. “I guess… I guess I just want to know _why_. Did you ever even stop to think about what you were doing?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m giving you excuses. I’m not. But I thought—you know how Quinn plays those word games? The weird questions that are supposed to make you think certain things?” Finn nods. “So she said a few things when she showed up, and she was upset, and yeah, it was still not okay, but I thought you’d broken up with her, or her with you, or she was about to break up with you. Or maybe she knew you were about to break up with her. Something like that.” 

“But we weren’t. I wasn’t,” Finn says. “If she was, I didn’t know anything about it.”

“You had kinda been flirting with Rachel, so, you know, it seemed possible,” Puck says. “I didn’t say it was a good reason or anything. I’m just telling you what I really thought.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Finn says. 

“And Quinn can be awful and mean, but she was still nicer than Santana,” Puck says. “You know how you feel when Rachel says nice stuff about you? Or at least, I’m guessing how you feel, based on how you look.” 

“Yeah, it’s good, when she says nice stuff.”

Puck shrugs. “And you want her to keep saying it, right?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. 

“Or, well, no, that’s not what I mean. You want to keep feeling that way. Right?” 

“Sure.”

“So I think it’s not that I’m more easily manipulated or anything, it just makes sense that, you know, people keep doing things that feel good and that they think will make them feel good,” Puck says. “And I thought well, if you ever found out, you’d be a little upset I was her rebound hookup, but that was it. I thought that’s all it was.” 

“But it wasn’t,” Finn says, “And now we’re here.”

“Yeah, now we’re here,” Puck says with a sigh. “And I have no fucking clue what I’m doing, and I want to be able to talk to you, and probably we should have had this talk earlier but I thought it wasn’t something I could start.” 

“We’re having it now, I guess,” Finn says. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” Puck sighs and stretches his legs in front of him, repositioning Joel. “Honestly, Quinn’s little weird comments fit, ‘cause I didn’t think she was that important to you.” 

“Yeah, but you were,” Finn says. “Her cheating on me? It sucked. You being the one who did it with her? Sucked about ten times as much.”

“Yeah, well, that particular day, I didn’t think I was that important to you, either,” Puck admits. “I figured there’d be drama about you two breaking up, I figured no one’d ever know, and I definitely didn’t figure there’d be a baby.” 

“Surprise,” Finn says with a tight smile. 

“I’m not saying it justifies any of it, but you know, you had just straight-up lied to my face.” 

“About glee club, not about, like, a girl! Anyway, you shot me with paint balls!”

“That was technically after,” Puck says with a frown, thinking about it. “And you like glee club a lot more than you ever liked a girl!” 

“That’s not true!” Finn says. 

“Sure it is. I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Puck says with a shrug. “I mean, hell, I definitely like it better than anyone I’ve dated.” 

“Okay, fine. It’s a little bit true,” Finn says. 

“Now that we’ve re-established our inner dorkiness,” Puck says wryly. 

“That’s us. Big dorks.” Finn grins at Puck. 

“Just because we’ve kept other people from figuring it out doesn’t mean it’s not true,” Puck says. “I was butthurt, okay? And I made it a lot worse.” 

“I shouldn’t have lied to you about glee club. I didn’t want you to think I was a loser,” Finn says. He scoops Joel up from Puck’s lap. “C’mere Jonah.”

“Dude. I know you,” Puck says, hoping that’s enough to convey the double meaning that he knows exactly how much of a loser Finn is and how he wouldn’t think Finn was a loser, at the same time. 

“Yeah, and you shot me with paint balls. You might’ve done that even if I had told you!”

“If I let you shoot me with paint balls, are we square? And we can drop the conversation?” 

“Nah,” Finn says, shaking his head. “I’ve gotta have a baby with your girlfriend first, then we’ll be square. It’s cool, though, ‘cause he and Jonah can grow up to be best friends.”

Puck starts laughing. “ _Dude_. How far apart in age are they gonna be? You’ll be waiting awhile for me to even have a girlfriend!” 

“I bet it won’t take as long as you think. Somebody’s gonna think the dad thing is hot, just you wait.” 

“Yeah, right,” Puck says. “And maybe if they think it’s that hot, maybe that’s a bad sign. Anyway, when am I going to have the time?” 

Finn shrugs. “I don’t know. We can make it happen, if you need.”

“I don’t,” Puck says, realizing as he says it that he really does mean it. “All these things I’m supposed to do and find a way to keep doing, and it’s stupid, because if I do them all, I’m not going to ever see him. I won’t be the one spending any time with him.” 

“Yeah, that would suck,” Finn says. “I dunno, man. We’ll figure something out. We’ll find a way for you to take care of stuff you need to take care of but still be with him.”

“But that’s what the stuff your mom and Burt have both talked about would do. Working, someone else will babysit. Find a way for me to play football, someone else will babysit. Find a way for me to do glee club, and even though I think I could take him there, nah, someone’ll babysit,” Puck says. 

“Then maybe you don’t do football. Maybe we really do bring him to glee club with us,” Finn says.

“You know how much babysitters cost? It’s stupid for me to try to work very much if I have to pay anyone for babysitting.” Puck stops. “ _Dude_. I could babysit, and take him with me.” 

“That would be cool. Maybe Burt will decide he likes you so much he’ll just adopt you, though, and then you won’t have to work at all!”

Puck laughs for a few seconds. “Probably I’ll have to ‘fess up to the not-actually-kosher thing before that’d happen. But for real. I _could_ babysit.” 

“Maybe Burt’ll keep the whole house kosher. It’s probably good for him,” Finn says.

“I’ll have to sneak bacon and sausage at your house,” Puck says with a long sigh. “You’ll let me do that, right?” 

“Of course. I can’t let you go through life without bacon or sausage!”

“Awesome,” Puck says. “So for real. Do we need paintballs?” 

“Ehhh.” Finn moves his head side to side. “We can hold off on the paintballs for now. Wouldn’t want you to not be able to hold the baby.”

“Yeah, okay, fair enough,” Puck says. “Would you hire me to babysit?” 

“Sure. You can babysit the baby I’m having with your girlfriend.”

“My non-existent niece or nephew you’re having with my non-existent girlfriend. I have a feeling that means non-existent cash.” 

“Just making sure you know that if any of this ever becomes real, you’d totally have my babysitting dollars, dude,” Finn says. 

“I appreciate the—” Puck starts, stopping when Joel suddenly lets out a cry that’s closer to a scream. “What happened, little guy?” 

“Poop. I think it’s poop,” Finn says. 

Puck laughs over the scream. “Yeah, sometimes I want to scream about poop, too,” he tells Joel as he takes him from Finn. A diaper change, a bottle, and a burp later, Puck packs up their stuff and goes back to the Hummels’. He and Burt haven’t talked about whether or not he has a curfew, and he guesses he’s nowhere near whatever it would be, but it feels weird to even think about. He hasn’t ever had a curfew, despite his mom’s earlier insistence on a bedtime routine. 

“I should give you a curfew, huh?” Puck says he straps Joel into the carseat. “You must be back with me by a certain time. You think Kurt will let me use his computer to make a babysitting website and fliers?” Joel waves both arms around instead of answering. “Yeah, maybe so. Hopefully Burt won’t be too upset I’d rather babysit than sweep. Which sounds pretty weird when I say it out loud, huh?” 

Once he arrives at the Hummels’, Puck carefully balances everything to get it in, leaving the car seat in the car as he carries Joel in. He hadn’t been exaggerating to Finn: if he implemented all the plans that Burt or Carole had mentioned, he really would have been a stereotypical ‘50s dad, gone all the time, except with babysitters instead of a wife. Burt waves at him when he walks in but doesn’t say anything, and Puck figures that’s because Joel’s asleep. It gives him time to put Joel down, unpack everything, and change before he hears footsteps—probably Kurt’s, judging from how they sound—coming down the stairs. 

“He’s asleep,” Puck whispers, loudly enough that it should carry. 

“Oh,” Kurt whispers back, his head poking around the corner. “Should I go back up?”

“It’s fine, just warning you,” Puck says quietly. 

“I’ll keep my volume down,” Kurt says, practically tiptoeing down the remaining stairs. 

“Do you have a curfew?” Puck asks, his mind going back to his curfew train of thought. 

“I do. It’s pretty reasonable, especially considering the only hot date I’ve had recently was a spa day with the girls,” Kurt says. “Did you not have a curfew?”

“No. It was like she read a lot about how to control little kids, and it was magically going to make me not need a curfew,” Puck says, smirking a little. “It’s mostly not going to be an issue, I figure.” 

“Dad might try to set one for you now, if you mention it to him, so you might want to refrain from mentioning it.”

“Yeah, probably easier for everyone.” Puck snorts. “Finn told me someone might find the single dad thing hot.” 

“Well, that’s one vote for and one vote against,” Kurt says, bobbling his head side to side as he mulls it over. “Not bad odds, really.”

“He didn’t mean it for himself,” Puck says wryly. “Not ready to have the oh-by-the-way-I’m-bi conversation with him. Today’s conversation was hard enough.” 

Kurt winces. “Yeah. I’m not sure how well he’d take that.”

“Yeah, I’m not either—wait, what do you know I don’t?” There’s something about the expression on Kurt’s face that makes Puck ask. 

“Well, I’m sure you heard all about the Great Room-Sharing Fiasco of 2010,” Kurt says. 

“The what of 2010?”

“Ohhhhhh,” Kurt says, drawing the word out and grimacing. “It was _not_ Finn’s finest hour.”

“A lot of hours aren’t his _finest_ , if you look at most of our football games last year, so maybe be more specific,” Puck says. “What’d he say? Or do, I guess?” 

“You knew that Carole had planned to move in with me and Dad, right?” 

“I may have overheard a discussion or two about that, yeah,” Puck says. 

“Carole… neglected to mention this to Finn in advance, we’ll just say,” Kurt says, “and he really wasn’t too pleased about having to share a room with me.”

“Oh, shit, she sprung it on him?” Puck says. “I bet he flipped.” 

“And while I must admit my own motivations weren’t entirely pure, Finn’s reaction was much more negative than I would have anticipated,” Kurt says. 

“You mean you were looking forward to enforced closeness?” Puck asks. 

“More or less.”

“Mostly more?” 

Kurt winces. “Okay. Mostly more. That didn’t justify Finn’s liberal use of the f-word when describing the decor, which I had put quite a lot of effort into, I should add.”

“You know he wouldn’t have known that,” Puck says. “He was gonna flip regardless of what he saw or how old or new it was.” 

“It was very tasteful, with privacy screens and everything!” Kurt protests. 

“A what? You had doors in here?” 

“No, a folding screen. A room divider.”

“Dude, those are like… for girls to change shirts behind,” Puck says. 

“I thought it would make him more comfortable, but he just lashed out,” Kurt says. “It was very upsetting.”

“Only way he would have been comfortable would have been if you each had your own bedroom in a house neither of you had lived in before,” Puck says. 

“But that’s unreasonable! Our house was bigger, and as you can see, this room is large enough to easily accommodate two people,” Kurt says. 

“Kurt. Do you _really_ think that?” Puck asks. “Like, you don’t have to tell Finn or anything, or even your dad, but really? You think it’s unreasonable that the better thing would have been a neutral site?” 

Kurt lets out a frustrated huff. “That doesn’t excuse how he reacted.”

“Nah, but be honest with yourself, you know?” Puck says. “He’s awkward and he has a tendency to flip out, but most of us do at this point.” 

“Well,” Kurt says, with a little _hmph_ noise after. “He might have realized what wonderful company I can be if he had given it a chance.”

“Okay, but your motives were probably showing,” Puck says. “That’s probably why.” 

“He still didn’t have to use _that_ word.”

“Yeah, fair enough. Did he apologize?” 

“In a sense,” Kurt says. 

“Huh?” 

“You remember the red rubber dress?”

“Oh yeah. I wondered why the hell he made that,” Puck admits. “It’s not really his style.” 

“It was apology Gaga,” Kurt says. “It worked.”

“Creative,” Puck says. “If I’d known, I could avoided having that conversation and shown up dressed like a guy from Journey.” 

“Slightly different circumstances, I’d imagine,” Kurt says. 

“Yeah, well, Finn even gave me an opening, accidentally. Talked about when I had a girlfriend.” 

“You didn’t use that opportunity to mention you might get a boyfriend instead?”

“First real conversation we’d had in months. You wouldn’t have either,” Puck says matter-of-factly.

“I don’t think my boyfriend-wanting status is in doubt, either,” Kurt says. 

“You could be like those people who are all, no, I’m committing myself to my studies and my activities and the Lord,” Puck says blandly. “Maybe you want to be celibate.” 

“Ew. No!”

“But Kurt, without experience, how can you be sure celibacy isn’t the answer?” 

“I have plenty of experience with celibacy, thank you very much, and I’d really prefer to try the alternative!” Kurt says, turning slightly pink. 

Puck laughs. “Yeah, yeah, okay. You want me to change the subject?” 

“Please!”

“Will your dad be offended if I get a different job?” 

The pink fades from Kurt’s face, and he looks thoughtful. “Hmm. Are you going to work for a competing garage?”

“No. Babysitting.” 

“Oh. That makes a lot of sense, actually,” Kurt says. “I wouldn’t think he’d be upset about that. He would understand.”

“I thought maybe some elementary school kids or something, it’d be fifteen hours a week or so, and I could take Joel with me that way. If I work for your dad and do extracurriculars and school, babysitters are the only ones that’ll see Joel.” 

“Do you need help advertising? We could put up some signs in the tire shop!” Kurt says. 

“Yeah, I was going to ask you if I could use your computer to make some fliers, maybe a website or something,” Puck says. 

“Of course we can. I’ll talk to the girls, too. They may have some ideas of where to look for babysitting jobs,” Kurt says. “I’ll go up and get my laptop right now and we can get started on your fliers!”

“Okay,” Puck says to Kurt’s back as he goes up the stairs. “I’ll be down here staring at the—oops, not sleeping baby. Another bottle already?” he asks Joel, sticking one in the bottle warmer as he goes to pick Joel up. Somewhat gratifyingly, Joel pushes his head against Puck’s neck, almost like a small animal. “Yeah, hi. I’ve got you.”


End file.
